PillowFace
Page 19
Of course, Paul would keep his shirt on.
“How could you forget?” shrilled Paul. “We all agreed on the bus Friday that we’d do this.”
“Yeah, but I thought Ethan had band camp this week.”
“No,” said Ethan. “It was canceled, remember? We talked about this. Mr. Safrit got fired for statutory rape. They called the whole thing off.”
Joel did know that. He never took band, but he was well aware of Mr. Safrit. He’d noticed the way he stared at the girls in the lunch room; something about his roaming eyes had always made Joel feel weird. Though he’d never met the man, he didn’t trust him. “I forgot all about it guys.”
“Doesn’t seem like you to forget that,” said Paul. “Everything all right with you?”
“Yeah...”
“Great,” said Ethan. “Glad to hear you’re not coming down with anything.” He pushed his way past Joel, inviting himself in. “Because, I wouldn’t want to catch it.” He laughed.
“Asshole,” Joel muttered. He glanced at Paul who stood on the stoop, waiting to be invited in like a vampire. “I guess you can come in, too.”
“Thank you my good man,” said Paul, smiling.
Joel stepped back to give him some room. After Paul was inside, he gave the yard one quick look-over for any other visitors, then shut the door. He walked into the living room. Ethan sat where Pillowface had been; looking at the Horrhound he’d left behind. Paul, naturally, had taken Joel’s seat in the recliner. “Sorry, again, I ruined you guys’ morning.”
“It’s okay,” said Ethan, not looking up from the magazine. “We’re still going.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. And, so are you.”
He’d expected this. “I can’t. I wish I could, but as you can see, I’d forgotten all about it, and I’ve got a lot of shit to do around here.”
Paul laughed. “Please. Like what?”
“Clean out the basement.”
“That can wait,” said Paul. “Shit, it’s not like we’re going to be there all day.”
“That’s right,” agreed Ethan.
“Listen, I really want to go.” That part was true; he’d love to go swimming with the guys. “I just can’t.”
His friends stared at him in silence a moment, then traded expressions, then looked at him again. Ethan tossed the magazine on the coffee table. The slap it made when it landed was awfully loud in the quiet room. “Sounds tough.”
“What does?”
“Coming up with a whopper like that on such short notice.”
“A whop…no, I’m not lying.”
Not…not really.
With his eyes on the TV, Paul shook his head. He raised the remote and started flipping the channels.
Ethan continued laying on the guilt, “Look man, if you don’t want to go, just say ‘I don’t want to go’. Don’t waste our time with that shit.”
Ethan’s less than subtle way of trying to make him feel bad was working. Joel felt smaller than a cricket on the moon. “It’s not that I don’t want to go…”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
Paul snickered. Joel glanced at him. “Oh, not you,” he said, pointing at the TV. “Blue’s Clues is so gay.”
Joel rolled his eyes, “I don’t know, Ethan, I’ve got some deep shit going on here.”
“I can tell that much.”
“The kind of stuff that’s just nuts.”
Ethan raised his eyebrows, obviously intrigued.
Joel took a deep breath. “Rusky died the other night.”
Ethan frowned. “Damn, I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yeah,” Paul agreed. “He was a cool dog.”
“He was,” said Ethan.
“What happened?” asked Paul.
“I don’t know, really, I guess it was just his age.”
“Is that everything?” asked Ethan, expecting more gossip than that.
Joel felt a pang of anger. He’d just told him his best friend in the world had died, and he wants more? What the hell? Fucking savage. “What do you mean?”
“You said you were in some shit, and the tragic passing of Rusky just doesn’t seem like it’s all.”
“Well...”
Ethan threw a hand up, “You don’t have to explain anything if you don’t want to.”
Oh, but he did. He wanted nothing more than to tell them what he’d been up to. He was dying to tell them. A secret this huge was too much for a boy his age to sit on, and he needed to tell someone about it, and soon. But, now wasn’t the time, especially with the possibility that Pillowface was eavesdropping on the conversation. Joel knew that Ethan would keep prying until he finally broke if they kept this up much longer. He needed to divert the conversation and knew just how to do it. “All right, let me go get my trunks.”
“All right!” Paul shouted, folding down the footrest and standing.
“You’re going?” asked Ethan.
“Yeah, just give me a minute.”
“You got it. We’ll wait outside.”
“See you in a few,” said Joel.
He waited until they were outside, then snuck to the door and quietly locked it. Don’t want to take any chances of them sneaking back in. Then he raced upstairs and into his room. He found Pillowface behind his door, just as he’d been when they’d first met.
“I’ve got to go out for awhile,” said Joel. Through the mask, it looked as if he was frowning at the announcement. “Just for a little while. I have a…obligation that I can’t get out of.”
He was right; he couldn’t get out of it, not really. He’d tried, but it just hadn’t worked. He actually really liked those guys even though certain things they did bothered him, and yet for some reason they made him miss his parents more whenever they were around. Could be from the sleepovers they used to have, when his dad would get pizza for them all, or just the summers spent in the backyard playing with water guns while his parents watched. Or, it could be, which Joel would much rather reject, that he was jealous of his friends and he hated that they still had their parents to go home to while he had no one. Now with Rusky gone, he was only left with Haley, who wasn’t even home most of the time.
Just me and a big empty house. Well, not exactly. He looked at his new friend and smiled. Now, I have him. Not that Paul’s dad would win any awards for being an outstanding father, but at least he was still alive. Ethan was the real lucky one now; he had a mom and a stepdad. His own father had passed away when he was just a baby. He’d gotten off easy; he didn’t remember him being alive.
But, neither of them had Pillowface. He was Joel’s alone.
Joel felt a touch of pride in that.
Pillowface sat at the edge of Joel’s bed as Joel dashed from his dresser to his closet and back, moving quickly and grabbing what he needed, but forgetting everything he should take. In a drawer he found his swimming trunks, and in the closet were his sandals. He grabbed his over-night bag, threw in the gear, and zipped it up. Then he stood up and exhaled long and hard. He was sweating.
“That ought to do it.” He looked at Pillowface who was watching him with poignant eyes. “It’s okay, bud. I’ll be back in a little while. I’ll fake a stomach cramp or something and get back home as soon as I can.”
He nodded, the burlap-bunny ears flapping. Joel put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You going to be all right by yourself?” He shrugged. “Don’t do anything that you’re not supposed to, okay?” He raised his head; they looked at each other eye to eye. “Promise me you won’t get into any trouble.” He raised his hand, extended his pinky. “Swear to it.”
Nodding, Pillowface bowed his pinky around Joel’s, and they shook. “That makes it legit.” He patted his shoulder. “I’ve got to get out there before they wonder what’s taking me so long. Give us a few minutes to get gone, then go back down to the basement, but be sure to lock the back door on your way out.” He walked to the door and turned back before leaving. “See you in a little bit, okay?”
He descended the stairs two at a time and didn’t stop his momentum once his feet slapped the floor. He whipped into the kitchen and took his set of house keys from the rack. Then he exited through the back door, circling around to the front where he found Ethan and Paul sitting on the steps waiting for him.
“There you are,” said Paul. “We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“Had to get my stuff. Ready to split?”
“Yep,” said Ethan. “Let’s go.” He stood up, brushing off the seat of his pants. “It’s already hot as hell out here. That water’s sure going to feel good.”
“I can’t wait,” said Paul.
Ethan’s voice bounced to a serious tone, “You know you’d really like it a lot more if you took your shirt off in the water.”
“Whatever, you know I have sensitive skin.” That was Paul’s excuse to keep his pudgy figure hidden under his shirt. He’d never had a problem with sunlight until he’d gained all the weight.
Joel and Ethan laughed.
“Right,” said Joel.
Walking in a group, they traveled back around the house. As they approached the woods, Joel stopped and looked back at his bedroom window. He pictured Pillowface sitting on his bed, fiddling with his thumbs, and lonely. He felt bad about leaving him. He wondered if he purposely didn’t try as hard to cancel this trip as he should just so he could get away.
“You coming?” asked Ethan.
Ethan and Paul looked at him curiously, and Joel realized he’d been staring at the window for the better part of a minute. He forced a smile that he knew probably came across more as a goofy smirk. “Yeah.”
They were waiting for Joel at the start of the trail, and as he joined them, he hoped like hell Haley wouldn’t come home and find his hidden guest. If she does come home, he’ll hide. He’s good at that. He wasn’t fully convinced things would be all right, but what choice did he have now? He was already with the guys, trekking along the Blue Wave’s Trail.
Neither of them knew who actually owned the land (other than the two acres the Olsen’s owned on the other side), but they’d declared all of it as theirs. All of the woods were their own private playground, their kingdom. To them, no one else had the right to be on their tramping grounds. They were the knights of the Blue Waves Trail, and everyone else was trolls, hobgoblins, and ogres that they must eradicate. The few instances they had actually come across other humans (hikers or cyclists), they had felt as if their privacy had been invaded by trespassers. It rarely happened, but it had before, and Joel figured it probably would again.
****
As the guys marched forward, talking about horror movies and music, someone trailed them at a safe distance, waiting for the right moment to make a move. The lanky figure moved in stealth, listening to their conversation and hating every bit of it.
But, behind him, someone else was stalking.
(III)
The toilet flushed.
Richard tapped his penis once and had to stop. The tugging pain stunned him like a kick in the balls. He was sore. Peeing had been terribly difficult. Though his bladder was full, the urine oozed out of him as if it was yellow jam from the pit of a volcano. Much as he’d expected, Sharon had not been lenient with him last night; in fact, she’d acted as if an unhealthy hostility had possessed her: writhing atop him like a cowgirl trying to tame a wild horse. Screaming the recited dialogue from the infamous crucifix scene in The Exorcist. Slapping. Pinching. She’d even used hot candle wax to burn him, something he detested, but he had allowed her to use it nonetheless.
He regretted it now.
Looking at himself in the mirror, what he found gazing back at him was a pitiful excuse for a zombie. The candle-wax had left small red burns in a speckled pallet across his chest and neck. He noticed Sharon’s purple teeth-prints under his Adam’s apple like indentions in a coffee drinker’s Styrofoam cup. There was no point in trying to cover those up. He tapped the welts tenderly with a finger and winced. The pain was ridiculous. When he used to be a smoker, on more than one occasion he’d accidentally dropped burning ash on his skin, and these were worse, a searing ache that wouldn’t quit.
He glanced at them one more time under the bright fluorescent lights above the mirrored medicine cabinet. “You’ve looked better, Richie boy,” he muttered. Then he shut off the light and stepped out into the hall.
On his way up the hall, he poked his head in their bedroom to find Sharon still sleeping naked on top of the covers. With her bronze colored skin, she looked like an adult movie star trophy. She lay on her back, fully exposed, with her left leg bent at the knee, the bottom of her foot lightly brushing her calf. Her left arm was sprawled out next to her, while her right graced her chest with her fingers against her throat as if someone had just said something shocking and she was reacting to it. Her mussed hair was a knotted heap of tumbleweed against the pillow. Richard couldn’t help but chuckle at what he saw. Even like that, she was the most beautiful creation he’d ever been fortunate enough to catch sight of. He was thankful today, much like every day, that he had her as his wife.
He needed to check on another beautiful creation. This one’s loveliness surprised him the most because she wasn’t just her mother’s doing, she was his, too. He’d helped produce something so spectacular. Which, having just seen himself in the mirror, was an odd and not to mention, surprising feat.
He quietly drifted away from the doorway and treaded softly to Tonya’s room. The door was closed. He felt a cramp of grief in his stomach, and took in a deep breath. He leaned his head against the door, placing his ear flat against it. The door was cold and sent a dull ache into the inner canal. He lightly tapped a knuckle across the door. “Tonya?” A few moments passed, then he repeated the tap, but louder this time. He also raised his voice, “Tonya?” He waited some more, and still nothing. The grieving pull returned in his bowels. He could feel a good cry wanting to get the better of him, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Are you home?” His voice was near its normal volume, but the pitch was all wrong. Higher, with too much worry and fear.
He sighed. Might as well just open the door, and see for sure. He dreaded doing that for two reasons: One, he didn’t want to risk barging in and finding her either dressing, or sleeping a bit too comfortably on the bed like her mother. He’d made the mistake of catching her like that more than once and certainly didn’t care for it to happen again. Two, he didn’t want solid proof to confirm that the dirty little shit known as Clay Ray had been right. Damn him, he thought. Though he had nothing to support this theory, he would be willing to bet that somehow, if they were to trace this whole thing back to its root, Clay Ray would be discovered as the seed that had started it all. But, truthfully, none of that really mattered right now. Sooner or later, he’d have to open the door and find out for sure. He wrapped a trembling hand around the knob. “I’m coming in Tonya, I hope you’re decent.”
I hope you’re there at all.
He opened the door and found her room just the way it was when they’d come home last night. Empty, unusually clean, and the bed made. There was no evidence that she’d slept in it, or had even come home during the early hours of morning.
His world shattered around him. He wanted to cry, but bit his thumb to hold it back. Now he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that something was wrong.
Something had happened to his daughter.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
(I)
The body, bloated and soggy like dough, was wedged in a dam of sticks and mud. Its skin was a pasty white and dark purple blend. It was hard for Carp to believe that this decomposing piece of excrement had once been a beautiful woman.
The lovely girl’s corpse had taken in water, expanding like a pool float.
Buddy nudged it with a boot. “That’s her
?” He obviously needed a confirmation from Carp, because she looked nothing like the way they remembered her. He got it with a nod. “What the hell is she doing out here?”
Carp shrugged. For the first time that he could remember, he was at a loss for words. “I-I don’t know. Maybe she…” He trailed off.
Maybe she what, exactly?
“Yeah,” said Buddy.
Confused, Carp just nodded, again.
“Well, here’s the girl, but where’s our boy?” Buddy nudged her again, this time harder. “Where is he, huh? Huh, bitch?!” He kicked her in the ribs; a sound like a thick branch snapping came from underneath her waterlogged skin.
The atrocious sound caused Carp to feel an ache in his own ribs. It was awful, but not so bad that Buddy was starting to lose control. Buddy slouched, his backpack sliding off his shoulders, and squatted in front of it. He opened it, sifted around the inside until his fingers clinked on something metal. Carp knew what it was he was doing, but he didn’t understand the reasoning.
“Why her?”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s not our M.O.”
“Yes it is and no it isn’t.” He removed his rusting 8mm film camera. A small, pistol-gripped entity that Buddy held closer to him than most would a child. Though it was miniscule in size and width, the interior gears were thunderous, ear-splitting as the film fed through, photographing images up to eighteen frames-per-second.
“You’re not making any sense,” said Carp, burrowing his hand into his front shirt pocket, and removing a cigarette from the crinkled pouch. He pressed it between his parched lips and lighted it. The smoke entered his lungs like an invited friend.
Buddy stood up. “You just worry about doing what I say, and less about what I do, got me?”
Though he was lying, he said, “Completely.”
Buddy stepped back to the stream’s edge and balanced himself on a slab of mud and jutting rock. He raised the camera to his eye, squeezing the trigger as if firing a gun. The piercing sounds of the motor shot through the mostly tranquil woods. A small flock of birds, startled by the noise, flew out of their seclusion in the tall grass nearby. Carp watched them flapping through the sky, getting as far away as possible.